


Meet and Greet

by LittleWritings



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meeting, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWritings/pseuds/LittleWritings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirkwall is a gritty, urban city which provides more than enough work for a private investigator if they'r not afraid to get their hands dirty. Cordelia Hawke has a knack for finding things people want and doesn't scare easily. Ambushes in alleys are nothing compared to what she'll encounter next. </p>
<p>How I imagine Hawke and Fenris meet in my modern universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet and Greet

**Author's Note:**

> This is really long and also potentially part one of a shorter series. This can also serve as a base for my other series, It's the Little Things, though it can stand alone. Thanks for reading and as always, feedback is appreciated.

Crouching in a dank alley in a not so scenic part of Kirkwall was not exactly how Cordelia Hawke liked to spend her nights, but then, she did appreciate having food on the table. She snuck forward, peaking around a corner before darting around it, waving to her little group of companions so they would follow her. 

“Liaaaaaa,” the low grumble behind her made her roll her eyes. 

“What, Carver?” She stopped and looked both ways at the junction of two alleys, continuing forward when she found the alley that crossed her path clear. 

“What are we doing out here? It’s clearly not safe.” Delia was hardly paying attention at that point, she’d stopped in front of a grungy building and was pressing her face close to the grimy window next to the door, trying to decide if it was vacant inside. 

“Varric?” She leaned back from the window, raising an eyebrow at the dwarf when he came sauntering forward, a lopsided grin on his face. 

“And it’s clearly not….” Carver continued to speak, his tone more dry than before as Varric pulled out a set of lock picks and began to work on the door. “Legal.” Delia’s younger brother gave her an unamused look and crossed his arms over his chest, tapping a foot on the pavement. 

“Yeah, well that’s why Aveline is here.” Delia barely spared Carver a glance, checking the grimy window again. The woman in question, Aveline, made a disgusted noise. 

“Hawke, this was my night off. And it’s not legal.” The red-haired woman stared hard at Delia until she turned around, her eyes wide and face innocent. “Don’t give me that look.” Aveline crossed her arms and took a stance similar to Carver’s. 

“Yes, well, I was hired to do a job.” Delia stood straight, shoving a hand in her jacket pocket. 

“But it’s not legal—” She waved a hand in her brother’s face when he spoke again, looking back the way they had come. 

“Well, I’m the only one with a job around here, Carver, so beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“Not this again.” Carver huffed.

“Hey, Aveline? Would you mind telling Carver about your job? How it’s much better than being a stinking templar or, I don’t know, whatever else he’s got in his head.” Carver groaned and Hawke grinned wide. 

“The force isn’t hiring Hawke, how many times do I have to tell you? Let him do what he wants. It’ll likely be more acceptable in the eyes of the law than this.” Hawke had opened her mouth to reply, indignant, when Varric stepped into the middle of the group. 

“When you’re done bickering, the door is open. It was already open, actually.” He looked up at Hawke, eyebrow slightly raised. “You shoulda checked the door first.” She rolled her eyes and brushed past him, pushing the door open so she could enter the dingy lobby of the building. 

“That reminds me,” Varric sounded amused behind her. She distracted herself by checking quickly behind the empty front desk, flipping through some papers scattered near the computer. “Why am I here? I’m but a lowly storyteller, not the infiltrator of buildings.” Delia bristled visibly at Varric’s question. 

“Look,” she put down the papers and looked at her friends across the desk. Varric was clearly amused while her brother and Aveline looked at her expectantly. “Being a PI in Kirkwall isn’t the easiest job in the world.”

“Clearly.” Delia held her tongue at Carver’s comment. Now was not the time. 

“I just needed some backup. This particular job seemed off to me and having a trusted friend,” she pointed to Varric, “a member of the guard,” her hand flicked to Aveline, “and my brother,” she gestured to Carver, holding his gaze a little longer than the other two, “at my back seemed like a good idea.” There was silence for a moment and Delia refocused on the desk in front of her, clicking experimentally on the computer. “So maybe you could all shut up for a moment so I can get this job done and we can go home.” Varric laughed and shuffled closer to the desk. Aveline shook her head and moved back towards the door, peeking out at the alleyway. Carver snorted and moved toward the stairs leading up into the building, looking up into darkness. 

An hour later they had found nothing of note, everything in the building had been remarkably unremarkable so Delia had decided to call it quits. Her employer would have to deal with lack of evidence of anything being stolen on his own. She stepped out into the alleyway first, chuckling at one of Varric’s quips before she ran headlong into someone. 

“Oh, sorry…” She trailed off as she took in the man before her, a voice in the back of her head screaming at her to move. The man was a mountain of muscle, a gun strapped to each hip. Clearly, he had been waiting for someone. As soon as he reached for a gun Hawke dove out of the way, unconsciously throwing up a barrier as she reached behind her into the band of her pants for her own gun. The rest of her party dispersed, taking cover behind trash cans and in doorways down the alley as reinforcements joined the man Hawke had run into. She sank into the familiar pattern of fighting, the noise of gunshots fading in her ears as the sound of her even breathing filled her mind. When appropriate, and discrete, she threw out bits of magic to trip up the hostile group of men before her. She wanted this fight to be over. She got her wish shortly, the alley growing quiet as shells from their guns clicked to the pavement below them. Hawke edged her way out of a doorway, checking to make sure there was no one else that wanted to kill them.

“All clear.” She said, her voice sounding far away in her ears. She scuttled into the street and checked the nearest body for a pulse. She was pleased to find none. Carver was next to her quickly, worry hidden in his eyes. 

“I told you it was dangerous.” The tone of his voice held that of “I told you so”.

“I told you I wanted back up.” Delia replied, giving his shoulder a friendly punch. Varric came up next, his fingers flexing along the butt of his gun as his eyes roved the alley. Aveline came last, checking behind them before she turned, ready to say something. 

“Hawke.” Her expression shifted as she said the word, low and quick. Delia whipped around, her gun aimed and ready to fire. A man stood a little way down the alley, gun pointed at the little group. Hawke tensed her hand on her gun, ready to fire when the man let out a yelp, and looked down to his chest. Hawke felt her mouth open slightly and dropped her gun for a second as she saw a glowing spot emanate from the center of the man’s chest. That had not been there a second before. There was a sickening crunch and the man crumpled and fell forward, revealing a second, taller man with stark white hair and glowing markings all over his arms. His hand was bloody and clutching a heart? Hawke blinked hard and then snapped to her senses, raising her gun again. The man before her threw the heart to the ground, stepping over the corpse he had removed it from and raised his own gun, eyes steady on them as he approached. Delia didn’t waver, keeping her breathing even. She’d never seen anyone rip someone else’s heart physically out of their chest… If there was to be a fight, it wouldn’t be pretty. 

“I’ve killed the other reinforcements, you should have no trouble returning home.” The man spoke calmly, though he still had a gun on them. 

“I guess we’ll see.” Delia replied, giving her statement a moment to sink in before she spoke again. She kept her gun ready in front of her. “Who are you?”

“Your employer.” He said it nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Delia was pleased she was able to keep her expression neutral. The man before her was certainly not the dwarf who had hired her just that afternoon. 

“You don’t look like a dwarf to me.” She kept her voice cool, but could feel her party’s discomfort behind her as they shifted. Why could nothing in this city be easy? 

“I’m not.” There was silence for a time and the standoff continued. It seemed her “employer” was not one for words. Delia’s arm was getting tired, but she didn’t waver from her position. Someone would have to relent first and it wouldn’t be her. She was determined. They stood that way for a few moments more, until the man in front of her let out a quiet sigh, gun dropping. 

“These men were slavers, looking for lost property.” When Delia didn’t move, he continued, though the words came like pulling teeth. “They were looking for me. I hear my former master pays highly for my retrieval.” At this Delia dropped her own gun, head cocked to the side, considering.

“I don’t suppose it has anything to do with ripping people’s hearts out?” She could hear Carver’s groan behind her. She couldn’t help the question, she was a private investigator after all. Curiosity was her business. The man in front of her was tense, but he kept his gaze firmly on her when he replied. 

“It might have something to do with that.” They lapsed into another tense silence, though the tension was not due to any sort of standoff this time. Delia shuffled in place, waiting for… something. It didn’t come. 

“Well.” She reached behind her and replaced her gun in the band of her pants, clapping her hands together in front of her before she took a step forward. “If our business is done here?” She raised an eyebrow and when he didn’t respond she stepped around him. Delia tried not to size him up too much as she passed, but it was hard. Mystery man was, well, beautiful. His dark clothes were immaculate. Interesting, considering he’d ripped a man’s heart out. His arms were covered in pale tattoos that pulled at her attention almost more than anything else. She felt her control over her magic slipping a little, reaching out toward those swirling tattoos…She blinked and looked up, met by dark green eyes slightly narrowed in calculation. Delia quickly looked behind her to make sure her little band was following her. Carver had pressed close, passing her. Varric seemed to be sizing up the elf the same as Delia had been, though his smirk told her it was for material for a new story. Aveline was bringing up the rear, giving Delia a small nod to affirm that all was well. This was enough to prompt Delia forward, her eyes carefully trained on the ground so she didn’t get lost again. 

“Wait.” They had almost made it out of the death filled alley when the man spoke behind them again. Delia stopped and turned, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. 

“Yes?” She stood with her feet slightly apart, hip cocked to the side. 

“Did you find anything in the building?” He gestured to the dirty building behind him with a thumb. Delia frowned. 

“Nope. There was nothing interesting in there.” She replied. The man dropped his arm but was still looking at her, silent. “Feel free to check it yourself if you want.” Delia shrugged and turned back to her friends, following them out of the alleyway. She looked back once and the mysterious man was gone.

 

The following morning, Delia was sat at her desk, feet propped up on the corner. She was flipping through a new file, something Varric had given her on a Grey Warden hiding somewhere in the city. Valuable information for their impending expedition underground. She flipped a page and took a bite out of her apple, running a hand through her hair. So much to do…. A quiet knock sounded at her door. 

“Come in.” She waved in that general direction as she finished reading her sentence. She marked her page and snapped the folder closed, swiveling in her chair to place the file on her desk. She stopped mid-swivel, eyes fixed on the doorway. He was lounging against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets. His clothing looked identical to what he had been wearing the night before in the alley, a short sleeved shirt leaving his arms exposed. Delia only let her eyes trace the tattoos of his arms for a second before she jerked her attention to his face. His green eyes were already studying her, but his face gave nothing away. She wondered what he was doing here. 

“Hello again.” She sat up straight in her chair, dropping her feet from the desk and putting the file she had been reading on top of a stack of paperwork. The elf didn’t say anything and Delia’s curiosity piqued higher. “Have a seat.” She stretched an arm over her desk toward the folding chairs set up across from her. She became vaguely aware that she should get new furniture for the office, if she was to be taken seriously in this city… Her guest moved from the doorway, stepping into the room but not anywhere near her chairs. 

“How can I help you?” She leaned back in her chair, trying for an air of confidence, professionalism. He was still studying her, but he looked more curious and less cautious now than before. Still, he said nothing. What a strange man. 

“Look, sorry about—”

“I was wondering if—” They spoke at the same time. 

“Go ahead.” Delia said quickly, cursing her impatience. This enigma had her curiosity levels off the charts. 

“No, please.” He took another step into the room, removing his hands from his pockets to gesture for her to continue before they settled into fidgeting in front of him. Nerves? 

“Oh, I just wanted to apologize for last night. I was just…” She was distracted by his fingers as they twisted around each other. She lost her train of thought. He cleared his throat and she looked up, as if waking from a dream. “Tense. I was just tense.” Delia put on a smile and hoped it would cover her strange behavior. Where was her mind going? 

“Ah. Well,” He shrugged, shifting on his feet. “I could have been more forthcoming with who I was and why I was there.” Delia only nodded, dropping her gaze to her desk. Was that all or…? As if he had read her mind, he spoke again. 

“Anyway, I thought I would stop by to see if I could get your help.” 

“You mean instead of hiring someone else to hire me.” Oh, that was sharp. She hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. Surprisingly, her guest laughed.

“Yes, exactly. The process is so much easier without the middle man.” He smiled slightly as he responded. Delia found herself smiling as well. 

“Well then, what can I help you with?” Delia leaned forward onto her desk, smile still in place. The smile slid from her guest’s face, however. His expression grew serious and his posture seemed to freeze in place. She tried not to feel uneasy at this shift. 

“Last night, I found that my… master…” he growled the word and Delia felt goosebumps rise on her arms, the animosity clear. “He’s in the city. I want to find him and remove him.” She blinked, the statement taking a moment to sink in. She hadn’t helped with a hit before…

“His name is Danarius, a magister from Tevinter. He,” the elf paused and swallowed, dropping Delia’s gaze for the first time. “He did this to me.” He ran a hand down his arm, apparently talking about the tattoos. Delia didn’t say anything, afraid of saying the wrong thing. “They are lyrium tattoos, painful and pricey. They allow me… abilities, as you saw last night. I did not get them by choice.” Delia sat back as it clicked into place, her eyes tracing the winding markings on his arms. Her mouth twisted to the side. Her fascination with those patterns now made sense yet it also made her stomach turn. She dragged her eyes up to meet his again. While his face was stoic there was fiery determination in his eyes that she couldn’t ignore. 

“Sure. I’ll do it.” She surprised herself, she hadn’t realized she’d made her decision. But there was a feeling in her gut, she had to help this man. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. She cleared her throat and swiveled a little in her chair, waiting. 

“You will?” The eventual question prompted Delia to chuckle. 

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I?” He seemed surprised by her response. 

“I have not met someone who does not act for their own personal gain.” Delia felt her smile freeze on her face. 

“We haven’t discussed price yet.” She immediately regretted the quip that had slipped out when his face darkened. Delia swallowed. She decided to try and change the subject. “Do you have any more information on this guy? An address maybe or some people he might see in the city, a place to stay?” He hadn’t moved, he looked just as ready to run from her as to fight her. All she could do was wait, she could take back what she had said, she doubted he would believe her if she said she was joking. It seemed the smart mouth her mother lectured her about actually could get her into trouble. Eventually he spoke. 

“There is a mansion, in the upper part of the city. He kept it for his visits here. I think he might be there.” It was something.

“Do you have an address?” She asked, grabbing a scrap of paper and a pen to save it for later. 

“I can take you there.” The man replied, eyes boring into hers. He knew how to get to business. 

“All right then. Are we going now?” Delia prepared to get out of her chair, pulling open a drawer in her desk to grab her keys. She looked up at him expectantly, to which he gave an almost imperceptible nod. She stood and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair, shoving her keys in her pocket. He had stepped back through the door, watching her as he waited in the hallway. She was almost out the door when she stopped. 

“Before we go,” She paused, studying him. “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?”

“I know who you are.” The man shrugged. Delia raised an eyebrow. In response, he reached out and tapped a small silver plaque by her door. “Cordelia Hawke, Private Investigator” it read. Her mother had gotten it for her as a congratulatory gift, Delia had accepted it as gracefully as she could. 

“I still don’t know who you are.” Delia said, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind her, locking it. When her companion didn’t say anything she leaned against the door, waiting. She wouldn’t be going anywhere until she found out what she wanted to know, she wasn’t completely stupid. 

“Fenris.” The man said after a while, his expression guarded. She inclined her head in response. 

“Call me Delia.”


End file.
